


brevity

by jcd1013 (redheadgleek)



Category: The Lord of the Rings - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: 100 Drabble Challenge, Drabble, Drabble Collection, Gen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-09-08
Updated: 2018-09-08
Packaged: 2019-07-04 19:02:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 11
Words: 1,100
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15847431
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/redheadgleek/pseuds/jcd1013
Summary: A collection of drabbles (100 words each) that I've written for LOTR. Book and movie inspired.





	1. The Stairs of Cirith Ungol

_Plod on_. Your path veers near the Nazgul city, where even light dies. The burden grows heavy, pulls with strong will. It calls to the Morgul-king, but your spirit, Ringbearer, turns aside the siren song and danger passes. 

_Climb on_. The long stairs sap you of strength, bringing you closer to fears unknown. Still, you laugh, at your role in a never-ending story. The rocks listen.

_Sleep on_. In the lap of the faithful, you find momentary rest. Old, pitiful Smeagol seeks redemption with a caress. You stir and Sam awakens. With rash judgments, the fleeting moment shatters. Forever lost.


	2. Ringbearer's Choice

Snow lashed at their faces, as the mountain threatened to bury them. Caradhras Pass was blocked. They could not continue.

Only two options remained, both fraught with deadly peril.

"Let the Ringbearer decide," Gandalf spoke.

Frodo clutched his cloak closer, unprepared for the burden of responsibility. Which way to choose?

Moria sounded tempting, a reprieve from cold and ice, with warm welcome from the dwarves--but Gandalf's face drew grave at the mention.

"We shall take the Gap of Rohan."

"So be it," replied Gandalf, although worry lingered still in his eyes.

For ill or naught, their path was set.


	3. By His Side

He still remembered that day, early in their adventure. Heart pounding, voice pitched higher than usual, fear clutched his insides as he frantically searched around him. But he was alone; he had lost Mr. Frodo.

He had promised Gandalf that he wouldn't lose Frodo; more importantly, to himself, he promised that he would be with his master every step of the journey. 

Now, little less than two years later, he felt that same fear. Though physically present, his Frodo was fading away, and Sam was once again losing him.

This time, no promises could keep him by his friend's side.


	4. Deliverance

His body riddled with arrows, Boromir waited for death. He had not intended to end his life this way: suffused in guilt for betraying bonds of fellowship, atoning the shame by protecting kin of the one he deceived — and failing.

Perhaps if he, in Lorien, had spoken to Aragorn about that which piercing starry eyes had revealed in his heart—a loathsome lure becoming more difficult to resist; a fear of losing himself to desire—this fate might have been avoided. 

Deliverance came too late, but in the form of the warrior he would have called king, he found forgiveness.


	5. Afternoon Tea

"More tea, Gandalf?"

"Mmm hmm. I must say, this is quite the party."

"Too many bothersome relatives. But the younger crowd has some spunk."

"Tell me about the quiet one in the corner?"

"Frodo. My nephew. His folks drowned a couple of years back. Smart lad. Been teaching him some Elvish, he's got a knack for it."

"There's a look of the Eldar about him..."

"From his mother. Folk say she was fairy-born, but that's nonsense. He's pure Baggins. I've been thinking about inviting him to live with me."

"Hmm... I think, old friend, that might be a wise idea."


	6. Lost and Found

It calls to us, precious. We lost it and it calls.

Nasty orcs takes us and hurts us. But we escapes, just like we escapes from stupid elves and their ropes.

So we wanders, lost. Forever lost without the precious. The bright eye burns, so we hides in dark mountains.

And we finds it, precious. We hears noises and hops for sweet meats. Then....The precious. So smooth. So beautiful. 'Round the neck of thieving hobbit. Robbers! Another Baggins....

But he's surrounded by big men. And we remembers. Fire and threats. So we watches and waits.

The precious will be ours!


	7. Mount Doom

All that remains - a mouthful of water, a wafer of stale food. Beyond all hope in this wilderness of fear, the path leads to inevitable death. But a new strength born, will of steel and stone, could not be subdued.

When vigor fails, devoted friend carries the burden of Master and Ring to the Crack of Doom. There, in its birthplace, the Ring asserts dominance. Veils of shadow part as the Ring is claimed, revealing all. A snap of teeth, a teetering fall into fiery depths, ends a Quest and frees burdens. 

Together at the end of all things - peace.


	8. Taught to Love

Absorbed, she did not notice his approach, until his hand folded over hers.

"You are troubled."

She did not reply. Then, "My lord, I fear... I thought I loved Aragorn, but it was shadow. What now? Do I enter a pledge with thee, unsure if this too will dissolve into mere fancy? How do I know what my heart feels when it deceives me?"

"You do not yet know your heart. Each day, I shall teach you anew to love me. Though I need no lessons to know that you, White Lady, shall always be mine."

She smiled, comforted.


	9. Reminders

"My Lord, what shall I do with the babe?"

He glanced briefly at the squalling infant, mottled skin still damp from birth, pinched in discomfort. The birth had not been easy; for long moments, the child had laid limp and blue in the midwife's arms. Then, lusty cries, deep gasps drawing life. None had noticed, through the tension, Finduilas's own breath fade in turn, her reservoirs of strength given that he might live. She died sighing his name. Faramir. 

The child quieted and opened cornflower-blue eyes wide. His wife's eyes, the same reproach. 

Denethor turned. "Take him from my sight."


	10. Innocence Lost

"Merry!" His voice had hoarsened hours before, when the high sun beat down on fields of lifeless orcs and men—too many men. His stomach twisted as he dragged away yet another cold body—desperately hoping to find a small, warm one in the carcasses.

Swept up in adventures, his naivety had spared him the worst horrors of war. Pippin could pretend that Frodo and Sam were still safe, Boromir at peace, but Merry was kin and more and his death—Pip gagged at the thought.

Desperation gave strength to wearied limbs. Another body flung aside and then, tear-choked—"Merry."


	11. Celebration

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> (The Hobbit inspired)

Wine, warm and sweet, slides down my throat. It had been too long since I had partaken—wine of this quality does not often come to the humble servants.

Merrily, we share the bottles and toast a good day: the prisoners have ceased their endless grumbling and tonight they'll reveal their secrets! 

I pass into pleasant dreams, muddled with rustling feet and a soft metal clang, until….

"Wake him! Shake him!" Bothersome elves!

Annoyed, I watch them roll the barrels in the water. Some bob heavily, and for a moment, I wonder if I did forget to separate the empty…


End file.
